The Man Who Fell From The Sky
by Everion Radnor
Summary: Supernatural creatures have a tendency to mess up your life. That's why Ivan Braginski hunts them. Now, what to do when a messenger of God turns up at your feet (metaphorically) and sends everything you've ever known and believed in for an unholy spin? And what are you going to do when said creature has a kill order on his head?


Ivan Braginski loaded the bullets into the chamber of his gun, hiding behind the rock as he did so. He cursed himself again for taking on this job. He could have stayed home and watched some _American Idol _but no, he just had to succumb to Raivis's big blue eyes act and join him in tracking down and neutralizing a werewolf.

Now Raivis was missing, the werewolf had caught on to his scent and he had very few silver bullets left. If they got out of this mess alive, Raivis was buying him a crate of vodka. Russian, not that American swill.

Deeming it safe to look out, he peered out from the top of the rock. The moonlight dappled the grounds and far off, he could hear the occasional car passing by on the freeway. He scanned the area for a sign of the crazy Latvian. All was quiet.

Just then, he heard a low growl.

Stiffening, he remained silent. Perhaps, if he played frozen, he wouldn't be caught. The other, more practical side of his head punched him repeatedly for not being more careful. Moving very, very slowly, he turned around and aimed.

There was nothing there.

Heart thudding in his chest, Ivan swiftly made his way to a tree. This monster was cleverer than he'd thought. The soft night breeze sent chills down his arms and neck. It was close by and Ivan was not planning on being its dinner tonight.

An owl swooped by noiselessly. He bit his lip to keep from making any sort of noise. The waiting was agonizing. Where was Raivis?

His question was answered when he heard a shriek and the short man came running at full tilt through the trees. Ivan could hear the steady pounding of large feet and panting, offsetting Raivis's quick patter. Ivan aimed blindly and fired as he ran.

They burst out into a clearing and spread out in two directions. In the cold moonlight washing over the place, Ivan could now see the beast clearly. It was a furry, seven foot tall thing, all glistening teeth and it stank like a dump yard in summer. He fired again and missed the werewolf by inches. He could hear Raivis firing at it, to no effect. Ivan had the silver bullets and he had three left. He and the other hunter circled it, looking for an opening.

Its eyes glinted in the moonlight as it watched them. Raivis panted softly. His eyebrows were furrowed and every so often, he wiped his forehead on his sleeve. Ivan betrayed no such emotion. He simply watched it, calculating. He saw it tense and then spring…over his head and behind him. Ivan whipped around and fired once, twice, thrice.

It loped around and Raivis, the fool ran towards it, shooting madly. It swiped at him and he went flying into a tree headfirst. He hit it with a sickening crack and slid down, unmoving.

He was out of ammunition. And he was going to pay for his carelessness with his life.

Ivan curled his hands into fists. Well, he wasn't going down without a fight. It stalked towards him and the Russian gritted his teeth.

He and the werewolf were blown off their feet when the earth exploded.

Slightly stunned, Ivan sat up and spat out some dirt. He tried to stand but wobbled and landed in a kneeling position as pain shot up his ankle. He'd sprained it. He wondered how that'd happened. Raising his head, he blinked and shielded his eyes from the light emanating from the man standing in the crater.

Wait, _what_?

He stood up gingerly, keeping as much weight as possible from landing on his injured foot. The glow was fading now, leaving bright purple and yellow spots in his vision. Just in time, he remembered the thing he was hunting and turned- as it sprung for his throat.

He bought his gun up in a gesture of defense as he fell and watched it fall towards him in slow motion…

…and then disappear. Sitting up, he watched in shock as a blond man straddled the surprised werewolf and calmly put his hand on its throat.

And burnt it up. It jerked and howled in agony under him, but he held fast, not a trace of emotion on his face.

When there was nothing left but ash, he stood up and faced Ivan, still sprawled out on the grassy floor, mouth hanging open. The soft white light highlighted the contours of his face and his lenses flashed in it.

This was most certainly an interesting turn of events.

The man approached him cautiously and Ivan instinctively crawled backwards, wincing as he shifted his foot. Sprained ankles weren't supposed to hurt so much-had he broken it?

"It's all right," he said gently, stopping. "I won't harm you." His voice resonated with power, down to Ivan's very core and reminded him, strangely enough, of warm cinnamon buns.

"Who and what are you?" Ivan's voice came out slightly higher pitched than usual.

"No one very important." He'd moved several steps closer to Ivan now.

"You just saved my life. Can't you tell me your name?"  
The stranger frowned and tilted his head slightly. "You can call me Alfred."

"I'm Ivan. Could you tell me why you fell from the sky and saved my life?"

"I happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"That's wonderful, Alfred. Can you help me up please?"

Alfred knelt at his side and offered his hand. Gratefully, Ivan took it and let himself be pulled up. Almost immediately, he fell back down again, this time practically cradled against Alfred's chest.

"You've broken your ankle," stated the man plainly, looking down at the hunter nestled under his chin. He reached down, arm skimming over Ivan's stomach and gently gripped his ankle. A wave of warmth washed over his foot and the aching throb disappeared.

Ivan was on his feet, gun aimed at Alfred faster than he thought he could do so.

Alfred rolled his eyes and remained kneeling.

"If I wanted you dead, I simply would've let the werewolf do his job."

Ivan shrunk a little under his appraising glare.

"You fall from the sky, ruin my hunt and heal my ankle. As far as I'm concerned, _nyet_, I don't trust you."

"Ruin your hunt? _As far as I'm concerned_, the hunt ruined you. I didn't fall from the sky on purpose and I certainly didn't want to fall here. Being chased by a bunch of de-"

Alfred closed his mouth abruptly and stood up.

"I'll find your friend for you and leave."

"You aren't going anywhere, Alfred."

Alfred had his back to him when Ivan said this. Now, he turned slowly and looked at him. His eyes were an unearthly blue behind his glasses.

"Who're you to stop me, Ivan?"

Alfred's eyes seemed to hold Ivan in place, like an insect under the lenses of a microscope.

Ivan set his jaw and stepped closer, gun leveled at Alfred's forehead.

"I can try, Alfred."

Alfred sighed, stepping closer and ignoring the gun pointed at him until he was only a foot away. He pushed down the hand holding the weapon, holding it at his side.

"Do you always make things harder for yourself, Ivan Braginski?"

Ivan was about to ask him what he meant by that when Alfred placed his free hand on Ivan's temple.

His last thought before sleep overtook him was that he had never met anyone with such a gentle touch.


End file.
